"Intermezzo with Mo" by Chris Riker

Updated: Oct 6, 2020

*Updated 10/6/20

Last month one of our clients ordered a Past Life Intuitive Portrait for one of her friends. We had the pleasure of receiving a short story inspired by the channeled image and message from the recipient of the gift, author Chris Riker! With his permission, we are sharing his beautiful story of life after life and between lives with you. :)

Chris Riker is the author of ‘Come the Eventide,’ a novel about dolphins and octopods out to save the world!

Visit Chris' website, CometheEventide.com, for more!

Blessings, love, and light,

Ellen and Kelly

Intermezzo with Mo


Chris Riker

“…you were killed instantly, dying at the age of sixty-three and were heavily mourned by your family and community,” said my voice as I read from the parchment in my hands. The dread that defined my life on Earth had come to fruition. I was stunned but not surprised.

“Not bad,” the robed man across the desk from me said in heavily accented English. He called himself Mohsine. He lifted the velum scroll from my hand, reached over, and slid it into a pigeonholed case that took up one wall. The furnishings in the room suggested a railway depot circa 1870’s, albeit one formed of thoughts and will rather than solid matter.

A Tonkinese kitten napping in one of the pigeonholes awoke with a start and shot out of its lair like a hairy cannonball, in the process scattering life scrolls onto the floor. Mohsine picked them up. “The universe is absurd. In the end, the scrolls record how we react to things beyond our control. Our anima sisters and brothers get written up in all sorts of ways, some of them most distressing. Don’t worry, you did well.”

“Thanks, I guess. It’s my first time being dead.”

“Hardly,” said Mohsine.

“What about my family?” The scroll said they mourned me, though for the life of me I didn’t know why. I had never done anything to make them proud. I had such big dreams, but what had they gotten me? I left Lara with a pathetic insurance policy and a mortgage I should have paid off years ago. No property, no pension, nothing for the grandkids. I was a failure and now it was too late.

“For them, time is passing. I can tell you they are sad but coping.” He smiled and scratched an earlobe.

I noticed how strikingly different he and I appeared. My terrestrial bloodline was a mix of English, Irish, Dutch, and Swedish. I was six-one, with dark hair (less gray than I remembered in fact), pale skin, and blue eyes. Mohsine was somewhat shorter and had powerful limbs, brown eyes, full lips, a broad nose, and a tawny complexion. I found my own clothing unremarkable (jeans and a sport shirt), but Mohsine looked imposing in his loose-fitting green robes. He had shaved his head except for a modest circle of frizz on the top which he grew to about a hand’s width and wore bound up in a colorful ribbon. Sideburns framed his face while a beard hung from the tip of his chin.

My next words came out before I could stop myself. “Are you God?”